It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
The New England Patriots, who represent everything that everybody hates about everything, pulled a reverse-Trump: Never the underdog, they still somehow shocked the nation with a HUGE come-from-behind victory against the Atlanta Falcons at Sunday’s Super Bowl.
Punxsutawney Phil may have seen his shadow two days ago, but to voters like me it’s Groundhog Day all over again. I’ll be shocked if I don’t wake up to Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe” on my iPhone alarm at 6 a.m. tomorrow.
#NotMySuperBowlChamps is trending on Twitter. Patriots fans on Facebook are telling me, “Get over it!”
Eye roll emoji.
As the countdown clock ticked down to zero—so sharp and clear in high definition on my flat screen—I found myself in the same smog of audacious hope I experienced three months ago this coming Tuesday. Maybe a flag would save the day, splendid in its glorious yellow confidence. A holding call, a late hit, late votes in Nevada or Florida…a recount.
Does Jill Stein watch the Super Bowl?
Halftime was such a hopeful time as the Falcons strutted off the field with a 21-3 lead. Lady Gaga stormed NRG Stadium in Houston like a paratrooper, all fireworks and progressive values; backed by her beautiful, multicultural army of dancers. The message of inclusion and pluralism was so in-your-face that I half expected Donald Trump to start a twitter war with Interscope Records. Her performance so cyberpunk and acrobatic that it can only be described as future-cirque.
“We’re here to make you feel good,” said Gaga, smiling from behind a piano. “Want to feel good with us?”
Yes we did. Until Trump pal and easy-to-hate handsomest man on Earth Tom Brady led his team to 31 unanswered points, stunning Atlanta and the world.
The universe’s cosmic forces aren’t supposed to allow such wrongs. Conmen aren’t supposed to win the White House, and cheaters aren’t supposed to win five stupid Super Bowls. And when the conmen and cheaters are besties? Those cosmic forces are supposed to work overtime, not send the game into overtime. For the first time ever.
America deserves better than this victory for the coastal elites. We deserve better than this stunning achievement by the billionaire class. We demand a champion of the people.
America needs a Steel Curtain, not a big, magnificent, maybe invisible wall.
The winner of the Super Bowl is supposed to be a rag-tag group of misfits—underdogs from the get-go. With names like Mad Dog and Spice. The winner of the White House is supposed to be the calculating director of a well-oiled, super-connected political machine.
Maybe I got it wrong and it’s not Groundhog Day. Maybe it’s opposite day. Or opposite year. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll wake up and it will be yesterday, not today all over again.
No, America, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. But you know what they say: In a Super Bowl, you get the champion you deserve.